The day is slow, no thanks to being stuck in the office for the majority of it. It's a day of paperwork and planning, getting a team together and going through all the proper channels. Everything has to be on the up-and-up when they finally get to arrest this guy. When they're not in meetings, Tim's getting through stacks of reports and glancing periodically at his watch.
He should not be anticipating Matt's visit so much.
Though, that's probably why he feels relatively stood up when Matt doesn't visit, but leaves a cup of coffee anyway in passing. Like a formality. It's, admittedly, disappointing. But this is probably for the best. It was only supposed to be a one night stand anyway. Tim shouldn't ask for anything more.
He does, however, seek out Brett Mahoney on his lunch break and chats him up under the guise of having a question about a follow-up report filed a couple of weeks ago. Tim doesn't really make friends with people, but Matt wasn't wrong. He gets along with Brett Mahoney fine. He can tell the man's a good cop.
Matt is something he manages to push out of his mind with very little difficulty. Always better to get over things than to dwell on them, and work happens to be a very, very good distraction. Especially when it comes time to put the sting into action.
It's a relatively straight-forward operation. Putting the word out about some new human trafficking operation, using exclusively undercover cops to set up the scene, rather fucking convincingly, even. All they needed was for the vigilante to drop in to save the day. They had SWAT and agents on standby, and a couple of snipers on the roofs.
One of them being Tim, obviously, because he's the best damn shot in the precinct. Possibly in New York City's entire police department. Not that he's about to brag. They wait for a long time, the comms device in Tim's ear alive with quiet chatter of possible movement and false alarms and doubts of whether the guy is coming at all.
Eventually, the boss calls it a bust, says they'll regroup and replan tomorrow. Try to figure out where things went wrong.
"Alright, wrap it up," a voice says into his ear. "Comms off, gear up. We're calling it quits."
Tim pulls the unit from his ear and switches it off before everybody sets in with sighs and complaints and a bunch of shit he really doesn't want to listen to. He turns, resting his back against the edge of the roof as he takes his rifle apart piece by piece.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2015-11-23 05:13 am (UTC)He should not be anticipating Matt's visit so much.
Though, that's probably why he feels relatively stood up when Matt doesn't visit, but leaves a cup of coffee anyway in passing. Like a formality. It's, admittedly, disappointing. But this is probably for the best. It was only supposed to be a one night stand anyway. Tim shouldn't ask for anything more.
He does, however, seek out Brett Mahoney on his lunch break and chats him up under the guise of having a question about a follow-up report filed a couple of weeks ago. Tim doesn't really make friends with people, but Matt wasn't wrong. He gets along with Brett Mahoney fine. He can tell the man's a good cop.
Matt is something he manages to push out of his mind with very little difficulty. Always better to get over things than to dwell on them, and work happens to be a very, very good distraction. Especially when it comes time to put the sting into action.
It's a relatively straight-forward operation. Putting the word out about some new human trafficking operation, using exclusively undercover cops to set up the scene, rather fucking convincingly, even. All they needed was for the vigilante to drop in to save the day. They had SWAT and agents on standby, and a couple of snipers on the roofs.
One of them being Tim, obviously, because he's the best damn shot in the precinct. Possibly in New York City's entire police department. Not that he's about to brag. They wait for a long time, the comms device in Tim's ear alive with quiet chatter of possible movement and false alarms and doubts of whether the guy is coming at all.
Eventually, the boss calls it a bust, says they'll regroup and replan tomorrow. Try to figure out where things went wrong.
"Alright, wrap it up," a voice says into his ear. "Comms off, gear up. We're calling it quits."
Tim pulls the unit from his ear and switches it off before everybody sets in with sighs and complaints and a bunch of shit he really doesn't want to listen to. He turns, resting his back against the edge of the roof as he takes his rifle apart piece by piece.